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After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, eyes closed and head back. “We can’t do this.”

He was then silenced as Thera wrapped her whips around his head and formed a liquid sphere, not to hold or wound him, but to drown him. Cain clawed at the bubble but was unable to break it. Realizing his only option, he sprinted towards Thera. She dodged and ducked away from his grabbing hands, relying on her agility, but Cain was more dexterous than he looked. He finally managed to grab one of her arms and then her leg and hoisted her high above his head. Mana surged from the tip of his horn, popping the bubble and letting his furious roar echo across the arena, telling the audience that this fight would end just like the others.